


Defective Defector

by newbandnamethx



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Attempted Murder, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Slow Burn, changing sides
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:42:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26553790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newbandnamethx/pseuds/newbandnamethx
Summary: starscream defects to the autobots (barely by choice) and grows a conscience like in one of those crystal rock kits or something
Relationships: Optimus Prime/Starscream
Comments: 71
Kudos: 107





	1. Chapter 1

It occurred to Optimus that he had never seen him smile, not really. Which wasn’t that out of line for a Primus forsakened Decepticon, believe him, he knew. But it was a shame, he had a nice face. Optimus huffed out a tired laugh.

Nice in the way that those chiseled statues in the human museums had a nice face. Primus knows that Optimus had seen it up close and sneering at him. Which made it considerably less desirable. But still, Starscream was as pretty as he was cruel, and something about that was alluring in a way. The way intergalactic thunderstorms looked beautiful. They’d tear you apart atom by atom. But the colors? The lightning? Like nothing you’d ever seen.

He looked at his face then, slack and almost peaceful, and was struck by how sad it looked. That was the thing. It wasn’t that hate pervaded every sense of Starscream’s being, though it did hold an unhealthy share. He didn't seem riddled to the bone with resentment and misdirected rage towards the world and its cruelty in quite the same way as his superior.

No. The thing about Starscream was that under it all, he looked sad.

He never smiled in a way that reached his optics, Optimus had noticed. Starscream had as wide an array of faces to pull, and masks to put on as any seasoned galactic politician. A wide selection of sneers, leers and the occasional deep cut scowl if things were really going south for him that day.

He even had, on rare instances, a “genuine” smile. It was fake of course, but it contrasted with his usual faces and seemed convincing and really, why couldn’t the mech just have one moment of actual sincerity?

But no, he saw his optics, and the warmth never even approached them and they sat, still and cold and sad. And Optimus wished he hadn’t noticed that. It would’ve been a lot easier to deal with if he hadn’t.

\----

It was an easy thing, flip a duck and a roll. Tearing through the sky, the whistle of the wind at his wing tips. Starscream felt alive and vibrant and the world couldn’t hold him back. It was this easy overconfidence, this habit he keeps finding himself falling into where he forgets for a moment that he is terminally under Megatron's thumb, Megatron’s desires, that spells out his doom.

Because he found him, on the battlefield, as things were winding down and Starscream was alive with the thrill of energon coursing through his veins, and smeared on his plating, not his own of course. It belonged to one of the many wretches crumpled around him.

And he was high, flying high in his own mind, surveying the wreckage before him with glee and it was just so very like him to take that moment away from him as soon as he had enough time to taste the thrill of the moment. Only a taste though, because then it was cut short by the crushing, crunching blow to his back. It instantly dented his wings and sent him sprawling and skidding into the ground.

And of course at first he’s startled, maybe even a bit scared that some rogue Autobot has returned for a bit of retaliation. But then he manages to flip himself over, and the face, or rather mask he stares up into has his shock icing over and turning to cold, deep set, strut deep, dread.

Starscream looks up and when he does he is looking into the crimson optics of Tarn.

In another instance the pain radiating from his wings is gone as it is replaced with the agonizing rush of sensory input that is having them torn from his frame entirely, Tarn’s pede coming down to flatten his own as he tries to escape the torture.

He held up his servos in a placating gesture, trying to draw himself back as much as he could with a now defunct pede and no wings. His stalling stuttering processor was coming to the realization that he had nowhere to go. Megatron had at last tired of him and put him on the List, and that was it.

“Hey, can’t we talk about this?” He tried, knowing deep down it was all futile, unable to keep the quiver out of his vocalizer.

Tarn laughed, deep and rich and unsettling.

“There hasn’t been anything worth hearing from you in over a millennium, no, the time to talk is long past,” the rumble to Tarn’s voice is ominous and looming, like his physical presence, it’s weight bearing down heavily on Starscream’s conscious as he feebly tries to drag himself away. But it’s no use.

“Consider yourself lucky I was ordered to make this brief, otherwise I’d love to make this last.”

He knew that time was running short, shorter than it had ever run before. He watched in horror as Tarn reached into his chest, closed his fist around his spark and then everything went black.

Distantly he thought he heard someone calling to him, but it was too far and he was too tired to make it out.

\---

When he came to, every inch of him radiated pain. The nubs of his wings were there dimly, somewhere in the background, a consistent throbbing ache. Where his pede had been there was only an agonizing wrenching pulse that he was sure would have made him upend the contents of his fuel tank if it wasn't already empty. The signal messages on his body were a mess. Apparently he’d been out 6 hours.

And by out, that meant offline. He’d watched Tarn extinguish him. He could only imagine this was some sort of dying fugue he was soon to pass on from. 

After a moment he became dimly aware he was moving. On what and to where, he didn’t know. As his vision cleared more and more over the next couple minutes, he realized he was in a vehicle of some kind, rattling and bumping over pots in the road as it went. This was a bit too grounded to be a dying delusion, he was beginning to suspect.

He wasn’t sure how long he lay there but eventually the doors creaked open and bare sunlight assaulted his optics. He grimaced as shooting pain drove through his helm, but couldn't bring his servo to shield his optics from the rush of light. Every part of him that wasn’t in agony felt numb, dead and was utterly unresponsive to his desires. He checked his fuel reserves. Under the 5% redline. That would do it.

The inside of the vehicle shook as heavy steps thundered towards him. He didn’t bother turning his optics to see who it was. The steps gradually thundered away. In a few moments they returned. Eventually the visage of Sideswipe came into view.

He squinted at Starscream, looking unsettled.

“Hey Ratchet, is it normal for optics to be online even when the spark is out?”

Approaching steps sounded, aided by a heavy sigh, “What do you mean optics online after the spark’s gone out, of course not. Don’t they teach you basic systems knowle-”

Ratchet’s face had come into view and he looked into Starscream’s face with tired exasperation, only for it to be quickly replaced with a mix of dread and surprise. The medic uttered a quick curse under his breath.

“Didn’t Optimus himself confirm he died with his spark chamber open and void?” 

His vocalizer struggled to come online, crackling with static, “Give me a few, I’ll be offline again before you know it.”

He would have laughed if his body had anything approaching the stamina for so much as a wheeze as two stunned faces turned and looked at him in disbelief. Then his optics offlined and so did the rest of his senses it seemed.

He was dimly grateful for the easing up of the pain in his chamber.

\---

When his senses came online again he was laying in a room of blinding light and could hear the clink of tools around him. He shuttered his optics for a bit, before once again trying to focus on seeing his surroundings. As he turned his helm he caught sight of Ratchet, looking tired and drawn, fussing over his pede.

The medic seemed to sense the optics on him and looked up to meet Starscream’s gaze.

“Quite a scare you had there,” Ratchet said, looking at him with guarded curiosity.

Starscream couldn’t suppress a snort. The only thing the Autobots were probably scared of in regards to him, was him seeing another day. And he had severely disappointed in that aspect.

“I had my spark extinguished by Tarn, if you send me back I have doubts as to whether or not it would be a one time accident,” He managed out through a vocalizer that felt like it had rusted over in the time he was out. He wasn’t sure if Ratchet had understood him through the crackles and pops, but the medic nodded, so it seemed like he got the gist of it.

“Do you remember being awake during transport?” 

Starscream nodded, shuttering his optics again at the thought of the blinding pain. His servos involuntarily reached up to cover his spark.

“Yeah that, I don’t know what is up with that malfunction you call a spark. It was all over the place for an hour or two, energy spiking so hot it seemed like it would melt out of you. Actually did warp your chamber a bit, but it should hold. Then it settled out.”

“Why bother doing all this work if you’re just going to end up taking me apart again?” Starscream asked, letting his helm flop down on the medical berth. Too much effort to try and stare down the medic.

Ratchet folded his arms and looked at Starscream in amusement. 

“We aren’t turning you loose and we aren’t sending you back. As far as Megatron is concerned, you’re offline.”

“And you’re sure you’re not offlining me?” Starscream said incredulously. “At the state I’m in it’s almost a favor.”

“We wouldn’t have wasted the energon or time fixing you if we were going to do that,” Ratchet said gruffly as he surveyed his frame pointedly.

“Then what are you going to do with me?”

Ratchet shrugged, “We’ll find a use for you somehow.”

“I’d love to hear that out of your Prime’s mouth,” Starscream snorted tiredly.

“You will,” Ratchet assured ominously. They sat in silence for a moment as Ratchet seemed to hesitate a moment before asking the next question.

“What was it like?”

“Being a ‘Con? Sunshine and rainbows,” Starscream said dryly.

“Being offline.”

Starscream sat on that question a moment. He remembered being in pain, he remembered the claustrophobic dark, he remembered waking up with a thousand error messages. He remembered hearing someone’s voice that almost sounded like-

“Exhausting,” was what he ended on, more to impress the point that he didn’t want to talk about this anymore.

Ratchet seemed to understand, and really, what a gift it was to meet a mech that could finally take a hint. The medic turned to pack up his tools and Starscream laid back and offline his optics. 

\---

When he awoke again Optimus was seated on a ridiculously small stool, peering at him.

“Have you been doing that the whole time I was in recharge?” he asked incredulously. Opitmus looked worn and haggard, unbuffed out scratches littering his frame, and his optics glowing a dull blue.

“I took over for Ratchet about halfway through.”

“Yes, yes, he’s had a long day of prying his enemy's spark out of the undermaker’s grip,” Starscream said dismissively, before staring up at Optimus, curiosity burning bright in his cutting red optics. “Why expend the effort? Surely leaving me to rust would’ve been preferable? After all the slag I’ve pulled, your colleagues- what must they think of all this?”

“As displeased as some of them might've been,” Optimus paused to wince at something in his near memory. “None of them were willing to offline you again themselves.”

“Oh was that a standing offer?”

“It was an opportunity that presented itself, though I would not have condoned it. This does not, however, mean that if you instigate with my team you are at no personal risk. There are several here who would gladly respond to unkind gestures with force.”

“Oh well, I shall not be missing home then, I suppose,” Starscream snarked, observing his digits disinterestedly. 

“Starscream, these circumstances that we found you in, I would not wish them on anyone,” Prime started, tone contrite, and oh he was good at making it sound sincere, almost.

“Oh dishonestly is so unbecoming of a Prime, let’s not mince words, a part of you was relieved when you thought I had been offlined,” Starscream said, dull sneer creeping across his face.

“I am never relieved to see the loss of another fellow Cybertronian no matter how at odds we may be,” Optimus said solemnly.

“It’s cute that you’ve managed to convince yourself you actually believe that.”

Optimus sighed. Clearly this line of conversation wasn’t going to go anywhere. He tried again.

“Starscream, a grave misfortune has fallen upon you. But out of this misfortune, an opportunity has also presented itself, so I would like to offer you the chance to serve our cause since Megatron himself seems intent on casting you out,” Optimus’ tone was warm and sincere and he is almost caught up in the hollow promise of those words before the cold, cynical nature that pervades him creeps in.

Starscream stared at him dumbly a moment before he threw his helm back and laughed, long, high-pitched and strained. There was a frantic chord of hysteria to the laugh and it takes a few minutes for Starscream to recover himself. Really, there was only so much madness he could take in such a short span of time.

“And what purpose could I possibly serve your cause Prime? Thought about it long and hard have you?” Starscream mocked.

“You have plenty of talents, many of which we could put to good use. Our fliers would benefit from your instruction. Skyfire informs me you two went to academy together and that you have a background in chemistry with him. You have tactical strategy and judgment calls that have aided the Decepticons for years and-.”

“And all of this operates under the assumption that I would serve to help your cause and not secretly poison it from the inside. Trust, Prime, you have no reason to trust me, and neither do your mecha, which means you have no means to guarantee my safety.”

“Trust is earned, and you would not be the first Decepticon turned Autobot among our rank to earn the trust and even camaraderie of our mecha.”

“No just the most hated and high profile one,” Starscream said, optics darting away from the penetrating stare of Optimus’ own. “Everyone knows who I am and what I’ve done Prime. I’ve been in the spotlight quite a while now. I’m not some little nobody who held a gun with a Decepticon insignia and then decided to defect before even firing it.”

“A stronger testament to the power of change then,” Optimus provided simply. As if things ever played out that smoothly, Starscream knew to doubt from experience. Knew better than to trust the pipedreams of others, Megatron had taught him that, long before anyone else had the chance to.

“Again Prime, comes the ugly question of what’s to stop your mecha from murdering me in my berth? I’ve seen and heard of how well some of your crew takes to your flights of crazed idealism, and it does not assure me of my continued safety one bit,” Starscream said, and then gestured to himself.

“I am weak Prime, I may have been recovered from death’s doorstep today, but I have no desire to find myself gambling at it again anytime soon. If that means chancing myself out in the wilderness, so be it.”

“So that Tarn can relocate you?” Ratchet’s gruff voice cuts into the conversation, the medic trundling into the medbay looking awake but barely.

Starscream’s face sours as Optimus beside him startles in surprise at his sudden appearance. 

“Ratchet you are supposed to be recharging,” he chastised the medic who waves him off easily.

“My stupid deciscion scanner kept going off and telling me to get to the medbay. Let me lay this out for you Starscream. You got lucky today,” Ratchet starts and when Starscream opens his mouth to continue he cuts him off.

“Shut up. I spent hours putting you back into a functioning state, so you can sit and listen. I know you’ve been on the verge of extinguishing for millenia now, but let me tell you. You are lucky in so many infinitesimal ways today that if your luck was a powersource we’d have Cybertron online for the next 4 million years.”

“Are you finished in telling me things I already know?” Starscream said irritably. 

“No. And again, shut up. Optimus is doing you a favor, if you walk out of this base Tarn will kill you, or some other lunatic of Megatron’s, and although, no we cannot one hundred percent guarantee your safety among our kind, I can at least assure you they won’t be as creative and as thorough as Tarn will be if he finds you again.”

“So you’re saying I should pick the lesser of two evils,” the bitterness in Starscream’s tone could melt through the hull of the Ark.

“I’m saying you’re a self serving glitch and the choice should’ve been apparent from the start for someone like you,” Ratchet snorted. “That’s how I know something is really off in your systems. That and the fact you haven’t noticed we haven’t reattached your wings yet so your alt mode is useless as is.”

“Right so, I’m your pet faction traitor until I earn those back I suppose?” Starscream snipped, folding his servos petulantly across his cockpit.

“Of course not, should you desire to be turned loose we would put you under, repair you in full, and leave you at the same location we found you or a mutually agreed upon alternate location,” Optimus assured. 

“As for if you choose to stay with us, in regards to your wings, it is a precaution I agreed to in exchange for the crew accepting your provisional presence here. That and we have disarmed your weapons and will require you to be supervised at all hours save those that you are recharging in your own quarters.”

“Ah, so you humiliate me for your faction’s amusement in exchange for my safety,” Starscream accused darkly.

“I should hope in time you will come to see your accusations of ill will are foolish and baseless,” Optimus said tiredly, deciding to not even entertain defending himself against whatever twisted depictions of himself Starscream’s imagination could conjure up.

“Well Prime you are quite literally giving me an offer I cannot refuse. Not in any sane sense” Starscream says with an acidic smile. “I should only hope you don’t come to regret it.”

That, at least, they could agree upon. Optimus nodded wearily, sighed and turned to go.

“One more thing,” it was less the phrase, than the curiously tentative tone with which it was said, that had Optimus turning back to the seeker.

“My wings, I don’t want them dangled out in front of me indefinitely. I will suffer mental anguish without them after a time, flying is hard coded into to me, and to deny me of it will degrade me physically eventually, though the mental effects will begin most immediately,” Starscream explained, voice hardening into a demanding tone. “I want a timeline for when my wings are returned to me, with guarantee of flight.”

Optimus looked to Ratchet who shrugged.

“A month. With the provision that after that I can remotely disable your t-cog and pass that control over to whoever is supervising you,” Ratchet said, crossing his arms and giving a firm nod.

“Do you find those terms agreeable?” Optimus prompted Starscream as the seeker grew quiet and receded deep into thought.

“So long as you honor them, I suppose you can call me provisional Autobot Starscream,” the seeker said, accompanying the words with a razor sharp grin.


	2. Chapter 2

He’s back on the battlefield with a crushed pede and scrambling back of the looming figure, marching toward him inevitably, like the incoming tide. His wings are gone and he can’t fly, and the realization that he’s going to die again breaks over him as the looming outline of Tarn approaches.

However, the laughter, the voice, that comes out this time, is a different one. Far more familiar in its caustic slightly mocking tones. A large servo comes up to take off Tarn’s mask, and this time it’s Megatron looking down at him, red optics glowing like molten metal.

He can’t move, every joint in his frame feels like it’s been rusted over, so he just sits still and watches his extinguishing a second time, Megatron’s voice in his audial.

“You had to have known it would end like this.”

\---

When Starscream comes back online again it’s without the ache in his pede, much to his relief. His back and helm still hurt something fierce, but he supposed that was to be expected. There was also just a deepset feeling of wrong that pervaded him as he sat up easily and without the counter balancing weight of his wings. Still, for the moment, the pain was manageable and he’s alive.

Starscream stiffened and paused his system check as he realized someone was in the room with him, optics lingering on the sight of a very small, squat, and yellow Autobot sitting a few berths away, watching him intently. His pedes were dangling off the edge, kicking idly. 

“Where’s Ratchet?” he asked immediately, because aside from Optimus, the medic seemed the least interested in offlining him, and the prospect of being left alone with anyone else was unsettling.

“Recharging since you kept him up a few nights,” Bumblebee said, tone flat and neutral. He surveys Starscream for a moment, blue optics cool and reserved. 

Starscream couldn’t say much for Bumblebee, their encounters had been brief and unpleasant, but that was how encounters tended to go during a war. He remembered that the other bot was surprisingly strong and agile for his size, and had caught many in their ranks off guard more than anyone wanted to admit.

Starscream eyed him a long moment before moving to stand, shifting his pedes off the bed and dangling them there as he looked down at the ground, which seemed a precarious distance away.

“What are you doing?” Bumblebee’s voice was so close he jumped. There was that infamous soft step of his. Bumblebee had drawn closer in between the lull of their conversation and was now merely a few feet from him.

“I am going,” Starscream started authoritatively only to pause. He didn’t know where he was or who was out there, and now that he was thinking about it he wasn’t sure he wanted to be alone in the bowels of the Ark, where any mech with a petty, or maybe not so petty grudge could offline him.

“I need fuel, my systems are low,” is where he ended up. 

Bumblebee rolled his optics, “Then ask.” He unsubspaced a cube and handed it to Starscream. Starscream took it and looked at it squinting to see if the color seemed off before he considered how much fuel his tanks could handle without him purging it up again. 

“It’s not poisoned, we don’t do that here,” Bumblebee huffed as he watched Starscream gingerly sample a taste of the cube.

“I should hope not, I’ve been poisoned before. They usually underestimate the dosage. Flight frames have high metabolisms you see,” Starscream said casually before taking a large swing from the cube. The ache at his back and helm dimmed somewhat with the fuel. He set the fuel aside as his tank gurgled ominously.

“Why are you here?” Starscream asked after a moment, finding Bee’s optics on him to be grating.

“You have to be supervised, part of the terms of you staying here, remember?” Bumblebee was still peering at him with that searching gaze.

“And you signed up for this?” Starscream looked at the small bot, unimpressed.

“I’m off field duty anyways, recovering from an injury,” Bumblebee shrugged. “Hanging around the base gets boring. Figured hanging out with the newest addition couldn’t be much worse than getting yelled at by Prowl for seditious loitering or whatever.”

“Like hanging around with traitors do you?” Starscream sneered.

“Believe it or not you’re not my first Con babysitting job, so you could say I have an affinity for it,” Bumblebee muttered.

“Who-,” Starscream started to ask.

“Skyfire and Drift for starters. You’ll probably run into either of them eventually.”

Starscream winced at the first name. Skyfire.... It had been a while, hadn’t it. He doubted feelings between them had softened over time. Last time he’d seen the shuttle he’d wanted to dent his wings in. Starscream wondered if he’d gotten a laugh about the fact someone else had done far worse before he’d gotten the chance.

“Let’s hope not,” is what he ended up responding with. The conversation between them lapsed into silence after that, and while it was hardly amiable or comfortable, at least observing the yellow mini when he wasn’t looking gave Starscream something to do.

\---

Starscream’s first week released out of the medbay does not go well. It starts with a thing he notices, which is that Autobots do not have a concept of personal space. Sometimes when handing him his fuel, Bumblebee’s servos touched his own. When giving him a run down of where and where not to go in the base, Ironhide leaned in close and asked him in a low voice if he’d understood. Ratchet had clapped him on the arm when discharging him from the medbay. Wheeljack had sat directly across from him during fueling, though he’d assumed that was mostly to chat with Bumblebee.

All together they were all so close, and near him and it was making his plating prickle. There was also this sensation that made his vocalizer lock up and he wasn’t quite sure how to define it.

So maybe it was inevitable things were going to come to a head.

“What do you want?” Starscream snarled, after he’d looped one of the base’s nonclassified levels three times and found the twins still following him.

“Where’s your little supervisor, huh?” Sunstreaker prodded. Starscream swore every time he so much as glanced in the direction of Sunstreaker, the garish shade of his frame threatened to burn out one of his optics.

“Yeah, thought you were supposed to be on watch at all times, breaking rules are we Screamer?” Sideswipe added. Starscream didn’t like their tone or the look in their optics. But what was driving him to the edge was their proximity. They were following at his back, at a physical distance his wings wouldn’t normally have allowed. In fact, if he had his wings he would’ve knocked them both with them a few times as a warning to back off.

“Bumblebee had something else to attend to,” Starscream was pressing himself against the wall as the other mecha drew closer. 

“Sounds true to me, you trust him Sunny?” Sideswipe lightly elbowed his brother, tilting his helm in Starscream’s direction.

“Oh Screamer? He’s a reliable guy, sure,” Sunstreaker replied, optics wide in mock naivete as he nodded his helm eagerly.

Starscream hurriedly turned, stalking off through the corridor, only to feel, rather than see the other two at his back. After listening to their footsteps and feeling his temper rise with each one Starscream felt something give. Finally, being irritated on so many seperate levels Starscream spun around and clocked Sunstreaker across the face while kicking out at Sideswipe with his pede.

Things quickly devolved from there.

The two of them drug him down in a sort of rough and tumble wrestle, which ended when Starscream managed to drive his pede into Sideswipes chassis, kicking out hard and throwing him back where he slammed into the wall with a loud thunk. 

One of them, Starscream had no clue which, had managed to clock him in the nose and mouth in one go and he was oozing energon from both as he moved himself away from the other two and struggled to reorient himself. He was regretting telling Bumblebee that their morning fueling could wait till after his errand now. Internally he cursed the absent minibot.

All was silent for the moment as they heard the rush of pedes against the floor, and an unfortunately familiar looking mech rounded the corner.

“What is wrong with you? What are you all doing?” Came a sharp, commanding, and thoroughly annoyed shout.

Starscream felt a sinking feeling in his spark as he looked up into the glowering face of the Autobot second in command glaring down at him. Because of course he was. Starscream quickly came to the realization that absolutely nothing in this situation looked to be in his favor. 

“Who instigated?” Prowl barked.

“They were following me,” Starscream snarled.

“No rules against following a mech,” Sunstreaker snorted, wiping energon from his nose.

“Yeah we were just keeping tabs on our newest pal,” Sideswipe added, the word pal coming out like more of an insult than a familiarity.

“I just,” Starscream looked around and saw that he was cornered on all sides by Autobots none of whom looked at all interested in hearing his side. Starscream spat a bit of energon onto the floor before he clammed up. If there was anything he’d learned from Megatron it was to shut up before things got worse. He seldom used that lesson in practice, but Megatron had always been one to indulge him in a one on one. He doubted he’d curry that kind of indulgence here.

Prowl seemed to take Starscream’s silence as a sign of guilt. 

“You two, my office,” Prowl growled towards the twins who looked none too thrilled at the prospect of being alone in a room with Prowl. “And you,” Prowl looked at Starscream a long moment. His optics were cold, and the tired annoyance he’d shown the twins morphed into a stiff mask of disdain. Prowl didn’t bother to finish addressing him, he just pressed his comm button.

“Ironhide, I’m going to need you to escort Starscream to the brig for instigating a physical altercation.” Starscream’s spark sunk further as he realized this might be the end of his very short stint as an Autobot.

The four of them waited in awkward silence until Ironhide arrived, cuffed Starscream’s arms behind his back, and started to march them down the corridor, as Prowl led the twins in the opposite direction. He kept his servo on Starscream’s upper arm, and Starscream felt his plating itch at the contact.

“Couldn’t even last the week, huh?” Ironhide snorted as they walked. Starscream didn’t bother to reply.

“Suit yourself, earned me a hundred shanix. Double if you get yourself kicked out by the end of the month.”

They arrived at the brig and Ironhide gestured to it, giving Starscream a slight shove. It was a small box, no window, and as soon as he stepped over the threshold, sizzling bars of energy came up from the ground, locking him in.

“Wouldn’t touch those, give Ratchet more work, and I doubt he want to see your mug again anytime soon,” Ironhide said, and with a parting glance at the still silent seeker, he strolled away.

Starscream expected to be left there a day, maybe two, probably without fuel, it was how the Decepticons did it. He leaned himself back against the wall and stared at the ceiling, noting how it didn’t drip water like the Nemesis. The Autobot brigs were also small, probably only meant to hold one mech at the time. He liked that. With the Decepticon one, it was one large room and when you were shoved in it you just had to pray that no one stronger who had a beef to work out was in there at the same time. 

He wiped at the crusting energon under his nose. Thank Primus nothing was broken, he’d hate to see Ratchet again after all this. He’d probably catch a lecture about giving him more work. The fight had him coming to one realization: he didn’t want to be kicked out of the Autobots. Not yet at least. If he could barely hold his own against the likes of those two, he shuddered to think of what would happen if Tarn found him again. But maybe in a few months, with his wings back, and maybe with enough ingratiating himself to Optimus so that he could be entrusted with the location of energon stores….

A plan was itching to be formed in the back of his processor, but for now, his helm was aching far too much to focus. He was lightly dozing when he heard the sound of a door whooshing open and onlined his optics in response. According to his chrono, not even three hours had passed when he was visited by another high command officer.

“How’s it hanging Screamer?” came the smooth tones of Jazz. After a moment of petulant silence Jazz continued the conversation by himself. “Yeah, I guess no good, considering you’re in there. Prowler’s not got a lot of patience for you, so guess it’s no surprise.”

The silence on Starscream’s end stretched longer.

“Look mech, way I heard it you said all of three sentences before Prowl decided to put ya in here,” Jazz unsubspaced a ring of keys. “So I’m thinking you talk a little more and see if you can convince me to let you out.”

“I think I prefer it in here,” Starscream muttered, so softly that if Jazz’s whole thing wasn’t hearing things he wasn’t supposed to, he’d have missed it. 

Jazz laughed and the expression on Starscream’s face soured more.

“Seriously though, try me,” Jazz pushed.

“You think I’ll say something you can trust?”

“I think between your half truths and the twin’s I can figure out the whole picture, or most of it. ‘S kinda my job,” Jazz shrugged, as he slumped fluidly onto the bench across from Starscream’s cell.

“They were following me,” Starscream said simply.

“So you got physical with them?” Jazz asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Why are you wasting your time here? I’m sure this is plenty justification to renege on our deal,” Starscream snapped, quickly growing tired of Jazz’s games. He knew of Jazz. Friendly, amiable, smooth Jazz all the way up until he was digging a knife into your fuel line and saying “Nothin’ personal”. 

He trusted Jazz as far as he could throw him, and considering he’d skipped fueling today, the prospects on that distance were grim.

“Look, me and Prowler, we have a different sorta… philosophy on things like this. He’s gonna want to put the heat on you and see if you turn sour. Sort of trial by fire deal. In the end, I don’t think he really cares if you break or not, and he’s certainly not going to set you up for success.”

“But me personally? I’d prefer you here, on this side, and I’ve got the hunch you ain’t exactly itching to go back over to the ‘Cons. I can see it in your face, you think we’re soft.” 

Starscream didn’t respond. 

“Alright, alright. You don’t trust me. Fair,” Jazz jingled the keys, standing up from the bench and flashing him a grin. “You're right to. I lied. I was going to let you out either way. Optimus wants to talk to you.”

The surprise could barely register on Starscream’s face before he was being steered back down the hallway. Jazz was another one of those mecha who didn’t much care about being close enough to weld their plating together, so by the end of their journey Starscream was on edge again. He wondered if Jazz could hear the creak of his dentae as he gritted them every time their frames ever so slightly brushed.

Jazz dropped Starscream off and shot him a brief, knowing look. ‘Gotcha’ it said.

Optimus looked up from behind a desk that he sat behind uneasily, as if he found the barrier between them distasteful. His facemask was up, which just added to the odd formal feel of the office. It ran so counter to the interaction they’d had in the medbay.

“Starscream,” he greeted. “Please, be seated.”

Starscream sat down on the chair placed in front of the desk. He noted how much easier chairs were without his wings. No twitching and shifting to align them just right so they wouldn’t cramp up during the meeting.

“Now,” said Optimus, folding his servos in front of him and looking at Starscream wearily. “Explain to me how you came to be on the floor in an altercation with Sunstreaker and Sideswipe.”

Starscream stared listlessly at a spot behind Optimus' head. He’d really been onto something with that whole staying in the brig idea. “They were following me,” he said in a dull monotone.

“From what was reported to me, you were without supervision, which is a breach of our agreement.”

Starscream found himself clenching his jaw, “Bumblebee had a classified matter to attend to and said he would return shortly.” Apparently not all that shortly after all.

“I see. A partial oversight on his part. He should have arranged for someone to cover him,” Optimus acceded and a part of Starscream’s spark eased at that. He looked at Optimus. He and Megatron really were opposites. He didn’t know if that was a good thing, or whether leaving himself open to Optimus would merely introduce him to a new kind of pain. Starscream’s optics narrowed.

“But why did you escalate a nonviolent situation?” Optimus prompted after a beat of silence.

“I told you,” Starscream said, voice becoming more agitated the more he recalled the touching, the proximity, the whole closeness of this entire Primus forsaken faction. The sound of Jazz’s plating scraping on his, the feel of Ironhide’s servo resting on his upper arm the whole way to the brig, the feeling of- 

“Yes, they followed you. And this bothered you because?” Optimus prompted, tone even, empty of judgment, which for some reason only incensed Starscream more.

“Because of course it did! No Decepticon means any-,” Starscream exploded, half coming out of his seat as he glared at Optimus, chin tilting up in a challenge, before he stopped himself. Optimus, even behind his closed face mask, looked surprised for a moment, before comprehension dawned in his light blue optics.

“I see. In your former faction, proximity was viewed as a sign of aggression and intimidation,” Optimus stated simply.

Starscream found himself without response as Optimus put to words the unnamed frustration that had been eating at him like a saltwater rust infection ever since he’d arrived. There had been so many unspoken rules, there were always unspoken rules. Things to pick up quickly and without explanation or learn through pain.

“I don’t doubt that Sunstreaker and Sideswipe may have been looking to perturb you or even instigate a fight. But you cannot respond to a nonviolent act of aggression with violence. It will not serve you well here if you wish to remain here long term.”

“Thank you Prime for your words of wisdom,” Starscream muttered sarcastically, before it dawned on him a moment too late that maybe he should dial back his disrespect for the Autobot leader. He hesitantly looked up at Optimus to see the Prime did not rise to his jabs.

“I am not going to administer further punishment, on the condition that you do not respond to further goading, from the likes of those two or anyone else. Instead come to me.”

“You want me to tattle to you when your soldiers are bullying me,” Starscream snorted. “As if that will earn me any regard among your ranks.”

“The Autobot way is valuing strength of character over physical strength. You will find no friends or respect here by fighting with other mecha. You will only affirm their belief in your inability to change,” Optimus said solemnly. Before Starscream could respond he added, “You are dismissed. Bumblebee is awaiting you outside.”

Starscream considered continuing the conversation, but decided against it, luck having been tried enough for the day. He instead spun on his heel to fling open the doors and find Bumblebee tapping his pede lightly as he waited. He swiftly walked past the other mech. 

“I’m returning to my quarters, no need to follow.” Technically there was a need as while Bumblebee was permitted to leave Starscream on his own in his quarters, it was required he escort him there. Regardless, Bumblebee ignored him.

“So,” Bumblebee said, sliding up alongside Starscream with a second cube in his servo, before offering it to him. “Heard you got in a fight.”

“I got,” Starscream started to snap. He remembered Optimus’ words and withered a bit. “I got talked to by Optimus about it already.” 

“Sunstreaker and Sideswipe can be glitches, and they certainly don’t like you,” Bumblebee snorted.

“Feeling is mutual. Why are you still here?” Starscream asked irritably, because really, he could stand going a few minutes without being reminded how disliked he was. “Don’t you have other mecha to bother?”

“I do, they’re called friends, and I figured you could do with one or two considering the state you’re in.”

“What state is that?” Starscream muttered before taking a sip of energon.

“Didn’t even check it for poison this time, look, progress,” Bumblebee smirked, before continuing.

“Hmm what state are you in? Alone, widely disliked, some might even say hated, apart from everything you knew, no wings, and you’re just kind of unpleasant,” Bumblebee ticked off on each of his digits. “I have another hand, want me to list five more?” he wiggled the digits on his other hand at Starscream.

“That served satisfactorily enough,” Starscream tipped the last of his morning energon into his mouth and stood.

“Did I mention no sense of humor,” Bumblebee said as he lagged a bit, seemingly distracted by something, before he tried to catch up by following after him,

Starscream spun around and loomed over the smaller mech, “Do not stand behind me. Do you Autobots have no concept of personal space?”

“Alright, alright,” Bumblebee held up his servos, expression unperturbed as he slowly walked around to Starscream’s side.

“Guess that answers my question about Decepticon camaraderie,” Bumblebee muttered.

Starscream sneered at him, and relief flooded his frame as they came upon his quarters. With more enthusiasm than he’d shown anything or anyone in the past few days, Starscream leapt across the threshold into his room, and slammed the door on Bumblebee as he opened his mouth to say something else.

A muffled “Aft” came through the door, and luckily nothing else as Starscream heaved a sigh of relief at finding himself back in a small, grey room with no window where other mecha couldn’t trespass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience with this guys. Writing this chapter I'm starting to realize this is probably gonna be a pretty long fic slow burn kinda fic, because thats just how Starop has always kinda felt to me. Its not a ship i feel where like, you write it and its instantly apparent what the characters see/draws them to each other i guess. So ive always wanted more of the really slow paced starop where they very gradually see each others merits and work through personal bad habits ig.... 
> 
> Anyways rambling over, next chapter idk when. Hope you like cliffjumper bc im putting him in here somewhere bc I have a big ol stiffy for him.


	3. Chapter 3

Starscream woke up with a roiling sort of pain coursing through him. The physical pain had ebbed a while ago, but this pain, Starscream was more familiar with. More frequent processor aches, the throb of his wings, or where they used to be. Disorientation and loss of balance. All signs of a flier being grounded too long. He wasn’t sure if his squabble the day before had contributed to his processor ache, but if it did, it wasn’t like there was much he could do for it. He doubted Ratchet wanted to see him again so soon. He didn’t want to see Ratchet again.

He didn’t like medics, in all honesty. How many times had Hook reported something he had rather kept hidden from Megatron? It was a lot. 

He had decided more details for his plan. It was simple, borderline stupidly so. Gain the autobots’ trust enough to let him go on energon reconnaissance missions. He was a seeker after all, not utilizing him for his frame’s perceived one use would be inane. Once he was allowed on the missions, an accident would go awry, the autobots would presume him dead, he would steal a stash of energon and make his way to the remote reaches of the galaxy with both factions leaving him for dead.

This all, of course, would come after he was fully healed and confident in his ability to defend himself again. The looming threat of Tarn would seem much more distant once he could fly, and thus fight again. If they met once more, he would be sure to see him coming. 

When Starscream exited his room he was greeted with a small, white bot with a gratingly cheery disposition. Starscream peered down at the bot a moment, making note of how utterly tiny and fragile they looked before passing on.

Noisy footsteps sounded behind him as he walked.

“Excuse me,” a high and very loud voice piped up. Starscream winced as he could already feel another processor ache coming on. It had been a rough time getting up out of his berth, his back ached with phantom pains and he couldn’t tell if trying to rub at the troubled spots was making it worse or better.

“What?” Starscream gritted out, not bothering to look behind him at the tiny bot trotting after him.

“I’m your new supervising integration officer,” the other bot said, craning his helm to look up at him. “I’m in charge of watching one, um, Start Seam,” the bot appeared to be trying to puzzle out something on his visor’s HUD.

“Starscream,” Starscream corrected, stooping down slightly as he peered at the bot curiously. To get his name that wrong he must have some sort of processing issue.

“Oh! Yes! The glyphs have changed a bit over the years, so I’m still getting used to them, you see.”

“How’s that?” Starscream squinted at him. The bot looked and sounded quite young, and he hadn’t heard of much evolution of the Cybertronian language since before the war started. Their language had stagnated when they started setting libraries, and all the knowledge they held, on fire.

“Well, I was asleep in a hole a while you could say, tunnel exploration team found me while looking for energon,” the bot explained. Starscream couldn’t help but notice that he seemed a bit sad retelling his story, but the expression was gone as he looked back to Starscream with cheery eagerness. 

“What happened to Bumblebee?” Starscream asked. He was used to others taking the fall for his bad moves by now, and he couldn’t say he felt too sorry at the thought of the smart talking, obnoxiously colored minibot mopping floors or something. Serves him right for leaving him to the turbowolves.

“Well, Prowl said it was because Bee was getting too friendly,” the bot said, looking like he was telling a naughty secret rather than a blatant truth. Bumblebee wanted to be his friend. Bumblebee had trusted him enough to leave him alone while he ran an errand. Bumblebee was probably getting too chummy, and Prowl was smart to see a potential weakness and eradicate it.

But as Starscream looked down at the new bot, he couldn’t help but wonder how this was an improvement.

“So you’ll be following me around for the day…?” Starscream gestured impatiently as he trailed off, looking at the small bot pointedly.

“Oh, it’s Tailgate, and no, just while Cliffjumper is wrapping up a recon mission. After that he’ll be back and ready to take over.”

Cliffjumper. The name was familiar, and the images Starscream drew up were simplistic. Small. Red. Angry. It would be like having a pint sized perpetually enraged Megatron hounding him.

“Fantastic,” he muttered.

“He really is,” Tailgate said brightly. “Very accomplished. But someday I think I’m going to beat him out, just you wait.”

Starscream supposed that if he did wait, he would begin to rust over eventually. They had made it to the cafeteria and Starscream let Tailgate toddle off to fetch them their fuel as he surveyed the cafeteria looking for a place to sit. He’d woken up later than usual, unfortunately

What he saw was a sea of unwelcoming faces. The staring had settled down quite a bit over the past week, but Starscream still felt a near constant prickle of optics on his back whenever he was in a room. Not all that different from the Decepticons, he had a way of drawing attention. But here there was no established pecking order to protect him, and he doubted the rumors that had likely sprung from his brawl with the twins spelled anything good.

A wave of pain and nausea washed over him as a ping from his comm sounded. It was from Ratchet, saying simply “Come to the medbay.” Starscream snorted in disdain before he discarded the comm, rubbing at his aching helm to soothe it.

“You going to stand there all morning or you wanna take a seat,” Bumblebee's voice came from somewhere close behind him and Starscream jumped. 

“What did I say about personal space, Autobot?” Starscream snarled as he whirled around.

“Calling me that like it’s an insult doesn’t work when we’re in the same faction,” Bumblebee said smugly, daring to tap on Starscream's cockpit and then leaping back when Starscream swiped at him.

“Careful, might end up in the brig again acting like that,” Bumblebee continued to tease, and the jab might’ve incensed Starscream more if the stupid grin on Bumblebee’s moronic face didn’t make it seem so harmless.

Exasperated Starscream groaned, “Warp, I swear to Primus.”

Bumblebee stared at him curiously a moment, brow pinched, “Skywarp? That’s one of your trine, yeah?”

Realizing his slip Starscream flushed, face contorting for a moment before every trace of playful annoyance evaporated as his face stiffened into a mask. “None of your business.” Bumblebee, having the sense to understand when he had trespassed far beyond what he intended, nodded and looked uncomfortably off to the side, optics brightening as he spied Tailgate.

“Hey Bee,” Tailgate’s jovial greeting broke the awkward silence between them as the small bot approached with two cubes in hand. He gave one to Starscream who accepted it with a nod.

“Are we going to sit down somewhere?” Tailgate directed his question at Starscream, staring up at him, visor somehow managing to project an air of innocence and naivety.

“Fine,” Starscream sighed. Bumblebee nodded at Tailgate and motioned him over. Starscream followed behind them at a sulky pace, thinking about how ridiculous he probably looked, being led around and supervised by mecha less than half his size.

They sat down at an already partially full table. Wheeljack was on one end sipping at his cube while he read off a datapad. Of all the Autobots Starscream had run across so far, Wheeljack seemed to be the most neutral about his presence, at most regarding him with a sort of cautious curiosity. 

Next to him was a black and yellow mech with a red visor. Starscream squinted at him. Couldn’t remember his name but he had a distinct feeling the Autobot was a pain in the aft to come up against in battle. He stared at his cube and then swirled it, finding he didn’t quite like silence and the feeling of optics on him. Usually he just took his fuel quickly and left. This morning however, was a particularly off morning for him and he didn’t quite know if he could take down his fuel rapidly and keep it down.

“So, how did you end up off field duty?” Starscream asked Bumblebee as he was taking a swig of his own fuel. Bumblebee nearly choked on his own as he was swallowing it.

“Are you… showing interest in someone that isn’t yourself?,” Bumblebee touched a servo to his own chassis in mock shock. “Starscream are you feeling alright?” Bumblebee dropped the mocking tone as Starscream’s expression quickly turned more sour than it already was.

“Alright, alright, still no sense of humor, got it,” Bumblebee sighed, setting down his fuel on the table with a soft clink.

“I pranked Cliffjumper and he shoved me off a cliff, in return,” Bumblebee stated bluntly.

Next to him Tailgate gasped softly with a small, “No he didn’t!”

“What was the prank?” Starscream asked, expression disbelieving, leaning in slightly as he did so.

“Painted his entire back half yellow. I think my prank was funnier,” Bumblebee said with a shrug and a cheeky grin. 

“He attempted murder in retribution for a prank?” Starscream asked incredulously. He had once had to save Skywarp from getting offlined by Blitzwing after he’d crammed the triple changer’s tank gun full of used polishing rags, so maybe he shouldn’t be all that surprised. “I thought Autobot’s had a sense of humor,” he smarmed.

“Nah, Cliff was probably only aiming for me to have to drive all the way back up the canyon, but turned out I already had a stress fracture in my arm strut and when I tried to use it to catch myself, it split.”

“And you don’t hold a grudge for that?” Starscream asked, eyebrows raised in disbelief. 

Bumblebee shrugged nonchalantly. “He at least looked a bit sorry about it, which is the Cliffjumper equivalent of a heartfelt apology. Anyways, enough about me, how are you holding up?” Bumblebee asks and Starscream wasn’t able to hide his surprise quick enough.

“What do you mean?” Starscream asked evasively, optics narrowing as he glanced around the room reflexively.

“This isn’t some sort of interrogation disguised as small talk,” Bumblebee said as he watched the seeker shift in his seat across from him. “I just wanted to know if missing your wings was getting to you at all.”

“You had wings?” Tailgate asked in awe, turning to stare up at Starscream.

“I still have them,” Starscream snapped, shifting his frame slightly away from the table as he tried to rein in his chagrined expression. “They’re just not attached right now. And I’m doing perfectly fine,” Starscream sniffed as if the mere suggestion that nearly getting murdered and being down a major frame function would cause him any sort of stress was ridiculous.

Bumblebee knew it was an act, but he also had the hunch that Starscream and emotional honesty went together like energon and an open flame, so he didn’t press the issue further. 

“Will you take me flying when you get your wings back?” Tailgate asked eagerly. Starscream ignored him, the topic of his wings just reminding him of how tired and irritated and sick he felt. His spark was feeling tight.

Just as Starscream was finding himself about to lose patience something sat down heavily next to him and slammed a cube down on the table so that energon sloshed on to it.

“Ah speak of the devil, how was patrol Cliff?” Bumblebee greeted his friend.

“Fine,” Cliffjumper grunted, taking a pull from his cube and not bothering to look at Starscream. Mutual ignoring sounded just fine to him.

“He had a great time,” Bumblebee faux whispered. He winked, then stood up, clapping Cliffjumper on the shoulder as he made his way around the table.

“Alright Starscream, I gotta go, you two play nice now,” Bumblebee said as he stood up and waved at the two of them. Starscream didn’t respond, too busy feeling sour over his wings. He just watched the yellow bug stride off.

Starscream spent a while nursing his morning rations. As he sat still, with few distractions, the eerie sourceless aches and a great feeling of loss pervaded his senses. Gradually the mess hall emptied until it was almost just the two of them and a few late risers or night patrols just rolling in. The latter group looked far more awake and keyed up than the former.

“So,” Cliffjumper said after nearly an hour of silence. “You wanna spar?”

Starscream shrugged. He sure as Primus didn’t want to do anything that required talking. At the very least the movement might get his mind off the swelling feeling of panic in his fuel tank. Starscream had the feeling it was the early onset of sky sickness. Cliffjumper seemed to take that as a yes.

So that’s how Starscream ended up flat on his back, seeing double as his optics were knocked out of calibration. Above him Cliffjumper let out a sharp, short bark of a laugh. The sparring room was mostly empty when they arrived, and by two minutes after they’d stepped in and gathered up gear, the room had completely cleared out.

Maybe the rumor of that fight was working in his favor. The sparring room had some padding on the floor that helped falling to the ground feel slightly less like being slammed full force onto the iron hull of their ship, but not by much.

“Another round,” Starscream growled, whipping out with the metal rods they’d been using in place of actual weapons. Cliffjumper barely used his, preferring to spend most of his time dodging attacks one way, then another.

It was almost like the minibot was dancing, especially when he stepped close with a mischievous smile on his face and promptly knocked Starscream’s legs out from under him again.

“You’re not used to bots being all in your personal space, are you?” Cliffjumper said smugly as he looked down at Starscream before retreating back a bit.

In truth he wasn’t. He was good on the ground as long as he was moving, that was his skill, dodging, moving, using the slight lift from his wings to cover distances that caught his opponents off guard. What he wasn’t used to was feeling so leaden and sluggish.

“Come on, I expected a better challenge out of an Air Commander. Or do you need your wings to throw a good punch too?” 

Cliffjumper’s teasing only served to incense him further and Starscream kicked out with one heeled pede, striking his target and earning himself a smile. He heard a heavy thud followed by what he was beginning to understand was Cliffjumper’s signature grunt.

“That was dirty,” Cliffjumper glared as he pushed himself off the floor.

“Oh I’m sorry,” Starscream’s lips quirked in a smile. “I need every advantage seeing how I can’t even throw a proper punch without my wings.”

Cliffjumper muttered something under his breath before pulling himself up to sit cross legged on the floor. Starscream didn’t quite trust himself to stand yet, he was letting his optics recenter themselves, his vision still going in and out of blurriness.

“So what was it like being Megatron’s glitch?” Cliffjumper asked after the two of them had settled down into a comfortable silence, resting side by side a few meters apart against the wall as their frames pinged with excess energy while they cooled down. 

With the distance between them, no one would mistake them for friends, and Starscream liked that just fine. He would never admit it, but some of the heaviness in his chest had lifted, and a small part of him was grateful for Cliffjumper’s abrupt suggestion.

“You grounders don’t have any taste for manners do you?” Starscream muttered snidely lip curling up as he did so.

“Don’t dodge the question,” Cliffjumper smirked, leaving his pole behind him as he scooted himself a bit closer to Starscream, optics bright with keen interest.

“Trade you my stories about Megatron for yours about Optimus,” Starcscream offered, because if he was going to dig into the well of humiliating and painful stories he may as well do it as an exchange. 

“Optimus? What about him?” Cliffjumper asked, squinting at Starscream suspiciously as he shifted on the bench.

“I don’t know, you tell me, what’s he like? Does he hate rust specks, afraid of needles, have an astonishingly stupid passion for limericks?”

“Wait do all of those apply to Megatron?” Cliffjumper paused a moment to ponder on the possibility. 

“I said a trade,” Starscream tsked impatiently.

“Fine but if I give you something good you’ve got to give me something good in turn,” Cliffjumper huffed.

“What do you want to know?” Starscream asked carefully, then watched amused as Cliffjumper’s face grew intense while he mulled it over.

“On second thought, Megatron is boring, I want to hear about you instead.”

“Me?” Starscream was caught off guard by that. It seemed Cliffjumper had an eerie knack for surprising others.

“Yeah, like, why’d you join up with the Decepticons in the first place, or what’s your deal with Megatron, or why were you on the list?”

“What is this, an interrogation?” Starscream pretended to be offended.

“I am in intel,” Cliffjumper smiled proudly and lopsidedly, and Starscream despite himself felt his lips twitch upwards at the sides.

“Fine, how about this, I’ll tell you a bit about Megatron and me and you tell me a bit about Optimus?”

“Fine, fine, whatever,” Cliffjumper stared at Starscream expectantly. “Well? Shoot.”

Starscream had fully expected Cliffjumper to want to go first, so he was caught out when he didn’t. He thought for a moment, digit tapping his chin slowly as he mulled over his questions. 

“Do you think your Prime is sincere?” Starscream found the question surprisingly earnest in nature, even as he spoke it.

“Sincere,” Cliffjumper said slowly, as if tasting the word to decide if he liked it.

“About the Primacy, about the Autobot cause,” Starscream expanded impatiently. “Sincerity doesn’t seem to come naturally to Primes.”

“I dunno, I mean no one believes in anything all the time, do they?” Cliffjumper shrugged while Starscream tried to parse his response, got irritated, and with a huff tried to rephrase his question.

“I mean, does he really believe that all those squishies, those organics, have merit? That their existence justifies itself?” Starscream corrected his terminology mid sentence as he noted Cliffjumper’s souring expression.

“Oh that, yeah, of course,” Cliffjumper said abruptly, with an ease and confidence Starscream had yet to see from the red mech.

“You seem confident in that.”

“I happen to like those organics a lot myself, so maybe I’m biased. Maybe if you tried talking to them instead of having to scrape them out of your thruster,” Cliffjumper threw an unamused glare at Starscream who was grinning at the macabre picture. “You’d see.”

“Maybe I wasted my question,” Starscream muttered as he tried harder to suppress his smile. “Your soppy Autobot rhetoric comes far too cheap for what I’m giving in turn.”

“That’s on you then,” Cliffjumper folded his arms over his chest. “You want another one, you’ll have to give me one.”

Starscream waved him off, “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Ask your question now.”

“So about Megatron, is it true about what people say about him and you?” Cliffjumper’s optics narrowed as he leaned in close and said the words furtively as if he were liable to be drug to the brig if they were caught.

“What do the people say?” Starscream responded, and Cliffjumper knew there was danger in that question, but he barreled on ahead.

“That you two were close once,” Cliffjumper stated simply. And how the implications behind something so simple stung. Cliffjumper hadn’t led the question anywhere inappropriate, Starscream’s overclocked processor took it there all on its own.

“Megatron and I?” Starscream laughed and it was hollow and more bitter than he intended. “Nothing between us. Ever,” Starscream punctuated his statement with a cruel smile. “He’s just lucky Tarn got to my name on the list before I got to him.”

“Uh huh,” Cliffjumper said, but he sounded neither impressed nor convinced. His gaze was slightly accusing as he stated, “You’re not nearly as good at lying as they said you were.”

“I’m better under duress,” Starscream huffed, shifting himself off the wall as the ache in his back started to return. “Anyways if you don’t believe me you’re welcome to ask Megatron himself.”

“Maybe I will,” Cliffjumper grumbled. Starscream was surprised when he didn’t push for another question and instead let an uneasy silence linger between them. He felt some of the camaraderie that had built between them throughout the day die away with the conversation.

“I wouldn’t expect an Autobot grounder like you to understand,” Starscream grumbled belligerently after a long pause.

“Nah, guess you wouldn’t,” Cliffjumper grunted back, but there was a slight upward bent to his lips as he said it.

For a mech that seemed so quick to anger, Starscream was surprised by how good natured Cliffjumper could be.

“We done here?” Cliffjumper nodded to their poles where they lay discarded on the floor.

“Do you want to be?” Starscream asked, because it wasn’t like he had much else to do besides stare at his own room’s wall. Being that Cliffjumper knew how to shut up, he was finding the mini good company.

“Well you seem less twitchy than you were this morning,” Cliffjumper said as they exited the sparring room. He even clapped Starscream on the back. Starscream still felt himself prickle at the contact, but after having both taken and given blows from Cliffjumper all day, protesting his contact seemed like a moot point.

“Twitchy?” 

“Not literally, you just looked like you were,” Cliffjumper scratched at the side of his face- a habit of his Starscream was learning- as he tried to put words to his thoughts. “Like you were needing to burn some fuel,” Cliffjumper said with a shrug. “I get it.”

Starscream chewed his lip as he debated asking his next question. Cliffjumper didn’t seem like one to talk about things that weren’t his to share. In fact, Starscream had the distinct nagging feeling that Cliffjumper said more with his silence and got more from what others didn’t say.

“Do you think they’ll let me outside anytime soon?” Starscream tried his best to keep any hopefulness out of his voice, but he felt his vocalizer itch with the strain.

“Being wingless driving you crazy?” 

“How well would you be doing if they gouged out your wheels,” Starscream snapped back.

Cliffjumper merely threw back his helm and laughed, before turning his helm to look up at Starscream. His features, when they were soft and relaxed as they were now, looked surprisingly like Bumblebee’s. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll say I’m going to go crazy being cooped up just us two in base. Isn’t all that far from the truth,” Cliffjumper chuckled. 

“You think they’ll buy that?”

“Prowl? No way. Jazz, also no way, but the difference is Jazz is less likely to see you being outside as a threat. Plus I have a note from the therapy mech saying I’m prone to break stuff when I’m feeling ‘encumbered and stifled’ whatever that’s supposed to mean,” Cliffjumper said with a roll of his optics.

“Can’t say it will be right away, might take a week, and it may have to pass through Optimus, but,” Cliffjumper shrugged. “Maybe you could come on a short patrol or something.”

Starscream felt his spark lift as they walked through the long corridors of the Ark, and for the first time since he’d had his spark extinguished he was feeling the faint ghost of something akin to hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a bit. ended up actually cutting this ch shorter than i intended to, only bc what i planned to include i could see taking up a whole ch on its own and i dont wanna upload an 8k ch. I'm in the mood to write this story atm so you'll probably be seeing more of it soonish- like a month or two. I've got like 4k of prewritten scenes stored up, so that should help keep things goin.
> 
> I've been a bit off my quota lately (life stuff recently makin things hard) but hopefully theyll pick up a bit now. Anyways thanks for reading. This is far from the last youll see of tailgate and cliff.
> 
> I'm thinking of making sunday my formal upload day, but maybe not, we'll see. 80% of the time i post it seems to be on a sunday lmao.

**Author's Note:**

> who knows where this is going, i really dont. updates will be splotchy, be warned. this is tagged as starop and it is but it will probably have a heavy focus on starscream like, actually platonically integrating with the autobot faction.


End file.
